Adversaries
by Iris magic
Summary: In Soundwave's quest to defeat and degrade Jazz, someone else is bound to get hurt. And this someone is Ratchet. This story includes two possible outcomes of the clash between the two adversaries. Warning: violence and other stuff.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Not a single bolt, stain of paint or a drop of lubricant. Lucky them.

A/N I don't know why I wrote this. I honestly don't. I really have nothing personal against Jazz, Ratchet or Soundwave. VAwitch, don't kill me! Also, I apologize before Dseeker from for using his plot bunny. Special thanks to Coaxial Creature, my dearest Beta who had to read this mess.

**Adversaries.**

Soundwave always was the best in what he did. He just was. He was the best spy, the most fertile creator save Vector Sigma himself, Megatron's best follower. Then this Autobot kid appeared. Jazz.

Jazz was the opposite of Soundwave in everything. He was the creative at transforming, sociable, passionate- everything Soundwave never allowed himself to be. While Soundwave hid behind the monotone, Jazz raised so much noise that one couldn't tell between the important sounds and the rest of the ruckus.

Soundwave spoke little. Jazz saw nothing wrong in singing as loud as his audio system allowed.

Soundwave wore a facemask to maintain his privacy. Jazz made his visor look like a fashion statement.

Soundwave had no friends, not to mention lovers. Jazz actually painted (on a dare from the twins) a huge sign, reading 'hooray, hooray, for loving ways. Screwing with 'insert Decepticon name here' is now okay!' The above-mentioned sign remained there for several orns, each orn including a new supposed conquest of Jazz, until Optimus Prime himself removed it, after his own name appeared in the 'insert' space. The accursed twins complained during the whole process. So did several Decepticons, from their hidden observation spot.

That incident made Soundwave realize that Jazz is a problem that requires closer attention. He actually captured the Autobot spy once, only to suffer another bitter defeat.

While Soundwave depended on his telepathic skills in acquiring information from captives, Jazz had the perfect defense. He was a double- tracker, meaning that he had two- track processor. One was his real one, but the other consisted of pure music, of all kinds and races. Jazz collected music, lived the music, and this music became a solid wall that kept Soundwave away from his real memories and thoughts.

Soundwave actually dared to bring down his own mental barriers, baring himself for metal onslaught, just to breach those magnificent defenses, only to find more music. And the next morning Jazz escaped, by seducing a guard to enter his cell, then disabling him and making a quick exit.

For ages the competition continued. Soundwave invented better traps, new hacking systems, new firewalls for Megatron. Jazz laughed at the traps, assisted the others in discovering and blocking the hacks, rendered the firewalls useless and still had time to write a lewd song about what he believed was the best thing about being Ravage- being able to wash itself with it's own glossa.

And that was the polite version of the song.

Soundwave became obsessed with defeating the annoying musician. His face haunted Soundwave during recharge; his voice taunted him during work hours. It seemed that there was no way to stop Jazz.

Then, the Autobot made a mistake, one that Soundwave would never allow himself to make. To make a long description short, Jazz fell in love. The Decepticon observed with fascination as Jazz's music softened, his smile turned shy and his optics glowed brightly whenever the Medic, Ratchet, spoke to the spy. Gone was the arrogant Mech that used his body as another weapon, and in his place came a stuttering youngling, desperate both to show and to hide his affection.

Soundwave watched with amusement as Jazz assisted the always-serious Medic in any way possible, left small anonymous gifts in the lab, only flinch when Ratchet tossed the 'junk' out or to ride around blaring happy music when Ratchet accepted the gift.

With his own actions, Jazz made his downfall possible. The question was how to make it hurt the most.

The chance presented itself several orns later. Ratchet was summoned to a neutral settlement to tend the injured, and Jazz stayed with him for extra protection. It only took two well aimed shots from a stunner so set the plan in motion.

-------------------------------------Scene change------------------------

Jazz woke up slowly. Slower than Soundwave will ever do. The Decepticon observed the process through hidden camera and smirked with superiority, as he recalled the way his creator trained him to recover quickly. Back in the cell, Jazz studied his own bonds in seemingly innocent moves in order to get free. Too bad, Soundwave thought, I designed those magnetic bracers especially for you, Jazz. You'll just have to stay put.

Then, the captive noticed his cellmate. It's in moments like this that Soundwave wished that he could hear Jazz's thoughts. The Autobot must be terrified, now that he knows that his beloved Ratchet is captured as well. Jazz did make a decent attempt to insult his cellmate, in order to hide his real feelings. If Soundwave didn't know that the truth is exactly opposite to the words, he might have believed the show. But he already knows the truth. So he decided to give Jazz enough time to panic, before he'll place the last destructive touch.

-------------------------------------Scene change- Jazz's POW-------------------------

Jazz is terrified to say the least. When he finally hears the footsteps of his would be tormentor he prays to Primus that it's a seeker, or a fighter, because they are easy to turn against Jazz himself, making them ignore Ratchet. But if it's Megatron with his creative torture or worse… No, it won't be Soundwave. Jazz is Prime's lieutenant, too high ranking to avoid Megatron's attention, and Ratchet is a Medic, a priceless Medic. All his hopes shatter when he sees the dark blue color of his worthiest adversary.

Soundwave doesn't talk. He simply picks Ratchet up and turns to leave. The chains keep the Medic from struggling efficiently, but he still tries, which obviously amuses Soundwave to no end. And now that the Medic is so close, Soundwave can hear his frantic thoughts, his worry for the other Autobot, and his wordless promises of love. Soundwave smirks behind his mask and changes his hold on Ratchet, making it bridal stile. The provocation hits its target and the expression on the other spies faceplate screams of love and despair. He's now exposed before Soundwave, just like the Decepticon always wanted Jazz to be. But he's unbroken yet. And he'll get Ratchet back.

--------------------------------------Scene change-------------------------

There's still one stage to undergo, before Jazz is destroyed completely, and Soundwave returned later for Jazz himself in order to carry it out. It's the first time that Jazz addressed him directly:

"What have you done to Ratchet?"

Soundwave chose to leave that unanswered; instead he just picked the Autobot up and carried him from the cell block to the habitat level. The Decepticon relished in the feeling of his captive being so close that he could feel the prisoner's metal shake with fury each time some other 'Con they've met on the way made a comment about Soundwave making a habit of carrying Autobot sluts around. But that wasn't as pleasant as the sight that waited for Jazz in Soundwave's own quarters. The Medic was secured upon the recharge pad, armor bits stripped away leaving him exposed. This was the first time Soundwave caught a thought from the non-musical processor. Even with all the terror of the situation, Jazz couldn't stop himself from thinking how beautiful Ratchet was, and he hated himself for thinking that. Even as Soundwave placed him on the floor and secured his arms to a ring fixed in the wall, Jazz couldn't tear his optics away from the sight before him.

The sound of Soundwave's voice made him jump.

"For vorns I watched you, Jazz. You are the strongest adversary I've ever had. You often bested me in my own game. And I decided to thank you for this."

"Really? You can thank me by untying us and letting us go."

"This is not what I had in mind. I'm here because I'm tired of watching you distract yourself from your duties because of your feelings towards the Medic."

Ratchet and Jazz stared at Soundwave. Were they that obvious and clueless at the same time?

"So, I brought you here to give you a lecture about what to do with the Medic."

"What do you mean 'to do'?" Jazz asked.

Instead of replying, Soundwave turned to Ratchet.

"The process you're about to undergo is wrong and damaging. It should have been Jazz to do this to you and it's his entire fault. You may scream and cry if you wish to."

Ratchet's fuel ran cold. This was a grotesque parody on the phrases he himself said too many times to rape victims. He shut his optics down, so Jazz won't see the fear he felt.

"It's not your fault, Jazz." He said. "It's not."

-------------------------------------Scene change-------------------------

The interface is a satisfying process, when the feelings are mutual. However a forced interface is damaging to one side and exhausting for the other. By the time Soundwave finished, Ratchet was too shocked and hurt to move.

"And this is what you do if you want someone." Soundwave said like he'd just gave a lecture about basic calculus. "Give or take the chains."

He turned to leer at his adversary, only to see the once blue visor turn crimson. A gasp told Soundwave that Ratchet noticed the change as well.

Once, Soundwave observed Jazz with irritation and respect. Once, Jazz eyed his counterpart with fascination and slight fear. Now it was Ratchet's turn to watch. And he'll watch. The medic missed the method Jazz used to get himself free, but he watched through pained haze as two red- eyed demons battled. And sometime later, one mech will walk from this room, carrying his exhausted reward in his arms, bridal stile, and optics glowing with red fury. He'll walk without turning back, knowing that there isn't anyone alive left in that room.

End.

Feed the Author, or she'll chew up another Transformer. She means it...


	2. For Coaxial Creature

A/N This chapter is dedicated to Coaxial Creature, my dear beta and friend.

"_She loves me not, she loves me still, but she'll never love again." (Metallica, Unforgiven 2.)_

Jazz stood no chance. Not after the damage he sustained in order to break the bonds, not when his processor was flooded by anger, stripping all resemblance of control.

And all Ratchet could do was watch. He didn't say a word when Jazz's form fell to the floor in a graceless pile of dead metal, nor did he speak when Soundwave picked Ratchet up and carried him from the room back to the prison. He just sat on the floor, optics fixed on the opposite corner, where Jazz was chained earlier that day.

A single Energon cube appeared on the floor of the cell, brought by a mindless drone, but it remained untouched. The Medic inside Ratchet couldn't process the inability to heal himself, to heal Jazz, and until the system malfunction is resolved, Ratchet won't eat or rest.

Lights in the hall dimmed, showing the beginning of recharge period at most of the base, then became light again. Another cube appeared beside the first one, this time holding expensive high grade, but Ratchet just could care less.

The injured chest plates remained unfixed, causing dim pain, and Ratchet accepted it with love. Maybe one day, he'll suffer enough pain to join Jazz.

"Primus almighty, take me away."

------------------------Scene cut---------------------Scene cut---------------------Scene cut------------

Soundwave wasn't much better. His systems were overloaded with agony, and some other, foreign information. All because he broke the golden rule of telepaths: never mind link with a dying person. The Decepticon's desire to hear Jazz's real, unguarded thoughts made him break the rule and now he paid the price.

The spy tried to rest and recharge, but in his dreams Jazz lived, whispering words of love, like the ones that thundered in both his processors as he fought his last fight. Even as he died, all he could think of was Ratchet. Soundwave woke up and tried to consume an Energon cube, only to discover it had the smell of a med lab, the taste of a non- intoxicating high grade that Ratchet gave to his weakened patients.

It wasn't Jazz the spy that haunted Soundwave. It wasn't Jazz the funny 'Bot. Of all things, the Jazz that remained after his shell ceased to support life was Jazz the lover. And he was hell bent on making Sondwave pay for taking the one thing Jazz loved.

The nightmares grew stronger by the day. Soundwave tried to ease his conscience (surprised that he had one) by bringing the Medic food and doing his best to postpone the interrogation by Megatron, but it didn't work. Ratchet was dying and Jazz wasn't pleased.

Nothing brought joy, not anymore. Not Ravage's mewls for attention, not Frenzy's news about finding a permanent partner.

And every time exhaustion claimed Soundwave, Jazz was there.

------------------------Scene cut---------------------Scene cut---------------------Scene cut------------

Ratchet heard someone talk to him, but it took his audios time to register the words spoken:

"… badly. Please, help him."

The Medic turned to see a Decepticon standing in the hallway, holding something that looked like a pile of scrap metal. On a closer look it turned out as a small, delicate Decepticon, badly damaged. He couldn't recall their name, nor did he care.

"Huh?"

"Please." The Decepticon repeated. "Help my partner. You're the best Medic we know."

The pain was obvious in his voice. Oh, Ratchet knew this pain, so much like his own.

"And who will help Jazz?" He asked, voice rough from lack of usage.

The larger Decepticon looked like he was punched in some sensitive circuitry. Finally, he spoke:

"No one will replace him for you. If you wish, you can take my life in exchange for his. But the little one shouldn't pay for his creator's madness."

Now Ratchet recognized the small mech. It was one of Soundwave's precious children, the youngest of them.

"Let me see him." The Autobot asked.

The small being was placed in his hands, shivering in pain, so weak. One squeeze and Soundwave would know what true pain and loss were.

But even as those thoughts circled in his processor, Ratchet's training kicked in. And with it, a memory of Jazz helping him in the repair bay, chatting about how cool it was, being able to heal, not just shoot.

"I'll need some tools, and some modified Energon. High grade. I'll process it to make it easier for him to stomach as he recovers."

The Casetticon in his hands chirped weakly.

"Don't worry, little one. You'll be up and annoying my teammates in no time."

"Can I help?" The large Decepticon asked, as he offered Ratchet a field repair kit.

Larger then Jazz, clumsy, but the same tone of concern and fascination is his voice.

"Did you ever consider becoming a Medic yourself?"

------------------------Scene cut---------------------Scene cut---------------------Scene cut------------

During the next months, Ratchet returned to his work as a medic. He trained his new 'friend', he fixed Decepticons, he even started talking to others.

Then, a big battle took place, and even with the help of constructicons and the other medic, the infirmary was overloaded and some choices had to be made. A battlefield triage is a harsh thing, when one has to decide who lives and who can't be saved, but Ratchet spared a second to kneel by a dying Mech. Soundwave. And the only reason the Medic approached him in the first place was the word the spy kept repeating at his last seconds. The name of Ratchet's long lost love.

Only then, Ratchet allowed himself to cry. But even as hot Energon tears evaporated from his faceplate, he stood up and returned to work. Jazz loved his Medic, and the Medic will keep saving lives. For Jazz.

Loved it? Hated it? Wanted Jazz to win? Let me know!


	3. Jazz prevails 1

"_O, wert thou in the cauld blast  
On yonder lea, on yonder lea,  
My plaidie to the angry airt,  
I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee,   
Or did Misfortune's bitter storms  
Around thee blaw, around thee blaw,  
Thy bield should be my bosom,  
To share it a', to share it a'_." (Robert Burns)

A/N: this is for those who wanted Jazz to survive. This line will be continued along with the line of Soundwave's victory, a chapter of each posted in turns. I thank you in advance for being patient with me.

Also, I again state that no matter how much I want them, I don't own them.

It is rumored that once a certain threshold of pain is crossed, one's processor no longer registers the pain. And it happened, right before Ratchet's optics.

By touching the medic in such a foul fashion, Soundwave signed his own death warrant. The only warning the Decepticon had of Jazz's intentions was the sound of metal tearing.

It was over in a matter of seconds. What used to be Megatron's prized spy now lay on the floor in several separate bits and Jazz stood above it, howling his triumph. Several too long minutes passed before he gathered enough sanity to remember the other prisoner in the room. Still shaking from overdrive settings Jazz approached Ratchet and caressed his faceplate, hating the flash of fear that crossed the medic's face.

"You poor thing… hurt because of my stupid spy games. I'll make it up to you, somehow." With that promise made, Jazz tore Ratchet's chains and carried him from the room only to stop dead in his tracks. "Oh, slag." He summed up the situation at hand.

Apparently, the noise of the fight attracted attention. Unwanted one. At least 5 well armed Decepticons stood out there, Megatron himself included.

Jazz gave him his nastiest grin, accompanied by a flash of a red visor:

"The pile of scrap inside opened a can of worms he shouldn't have, so I opened him up. Now, unless you want to join him, I suggest you move."

He gathered his courage and remains of energy and took a step forward.

"Not so fast, Autobot." Megatron smirked. "You killed one of my troops."

"You want me to kill another? Wait a second." Jazz placed Ratchet on the floor, back against the wall. "Stay here, beloved. I'll just finish this chat…"

"No… Don't go."

Jazz kissed him and stood up to face Megatron.

"Last warning." The Autobot hissed.

"What could Soundwave possible do make you this angry?"

"He took what is mine."

Megatron eyed Ratchet. Taking indeed, he thought.

"If you move the medic now, Prime will need a new one, due to the demise of his current one. I offer you politely to return to the prison cells, where he may recover. I have use for him."

"I'm not giving you Ratchet!" Jazz growled.

"You're leaking and barely functioning." The Decepticon leader reasoned.

While Jazz argued with Megatron, Ravage padded softly into the quarters behind Jazz, then came out, sat on her tail and began yowling, like a lost kitten, which in a way, she was.

Ratchet raised one tired arm.

"Come here. We both have stuff to yowl about."

Ravage sniffed him, then curled on the Medic's legs and kept yowling. Ratchet hugged her and slipped into oblivion, too tired to be afraid or to grieve.

Jazz eyed the picture and his spark clenched in his chest. Megatron was right. Ratchet couldn't be moved in this condition.

"I'm sorry, my love, for failing you." He whispered and raised his hands to face level, bleeding wrists pressed together, in a gesture of surrender.

"Take the Medic to the brig." Megatron ordered. "Follow me, Autobot."

Some nameless Decepticon pulled Ratchet to his feet and pushed him forward, only to see him stumble and his optics flicker on and off.

"Not like that." Megatron yelled. "I want this one alive, unless you can get me another Medic."

Jazz smiled in gratitude.

"May I carry him there?" He asked. "I'll be quick." He promised.

Megatron nodded and pointed out three other Mechs.

"You three, follow them. If any of them tries anything, shoot them both."

But for Jazz, even the threat couldn't take away the pleasure of having Ratchet in his arms. Especially when the pale-colored Mech pressed against him in a beautiful gesture of trust.

----------------------------------scene cut-----------------------------scene cut----------------------------

Ratchet sat on the floor of the brig, optics fixed on the opposite corner, where Jazz was chained earlier that day. He still couldn't believe what happened. Soundwave's assault and death registered in his processor as something surreal. Another thought, of Jazz speaking of his love openly stunned Ratchet more than pain ever could. All those small gestures, the gifts, the assistance at work, all those now fell into a picture of a shy admirer. Although, Ratchet had to note that in his processors, 'shy Jazz' made as much sense as the concept of "guinea pig"- neither a pig nor from Guinea. The warm feeling quickly was replaced by worry. What could Megatron possibly want with Jazz? What cruelty is being dished out as punishment for the loss of the Decepticon spy? With recent experiences in mind, Ratchet's imagination drew vivid images of Jazz chained to a bunk, probably painted with lubricants and coolants of dozens of victims prior to him, with Megatron's paws touching parts that Ratchet himself rarely touched, and with a whole different intention.

_He could see it before his very optics: Jazz clenching his jaws to keep the cry of pain from sounding. Megatron stood above his injured victim, leering like an animal. _

_"You bleed." He stated. "And it's not my doing. I hate when this happens. So I'll amend it." He raised one taloned hand and sunk it into Jazz's stomach, causing sparks and fuel to spill from the gashes. "Scream for me, lovely one. Give me your pain."_

_And as the hand rose another time, Ratchet could see Jazz's mouth move, forming the word 'love', before opening in a terrible shriek..._

Ratchet tried to yell for a guard to come, to get some information, but he **(was?)** ignored, until finally, the feverish nightmare of the ordeal took over his processors and Ratchet sank into world beyond existence.

A single Energon cube appeared on the floor of the cell, brought by a mindless drone, but it remained untouched. Lights in the hall dimmed, showing the beginning of recharge period at most of the base, then came alight again. Another cube appeared beside the first one, this time holding expensive high grade, but Ratchet just could care less.

The injured chest plates remained unfixed, causing dim pain, and Ratchet accepted it with love. For him it made sick sense- it was his new designation: to suffer. Maybe if he suffers enough, they'll let Jazz be.

"Primus almighty, spare my beloved."

----------------------------------scene cut-----------------------------scene cut----------------------------

If Jazz could laugh without injuring himself further, he'd do so. Megatron's idea of justice included beating the scrap out of him, then tying him up in the mess halls, to serve as a target practice for drunken shooters. Damn, if those guys were as good at battle as they were bad drunk, the Autobots would be in trouble. Speaking of Autobots, Jazz's more reasonable self reminded him, Ratchet now knew of his feelings. Now that was a thought worth being afraid of. That, and the fact no Autobot rescue came so far. Who would take care of Ratchet after Jazz dies from a lucky shot? Will he end up here like Jazz, a target practice?

Megatron said he has use for Ratchet. Primus, Jazz didn't want to think what the gentle medic might experience in Megatron's clutches.

_In his mind he already saw it: Ratchet, pressing into the wall as if it could open and shelter him from the dark form of the Decepticon standing above him. _

_"I can smell your fear, Autobot trash. It's intoxicating. Soundwave was a fool, to get killed like that, but you have to admit, he had a good taste when it came to choosing his catamite."_

_Megatron reaches forward to caress the faceplate, to feel it shiver under his touch._

_"Are you afraid of me?"_

_Ratchet spits at him in defiance, only to hear laughter in return._

_"Unbroken yet. Good. I'll enjoy breaking you..."_

He was shaken from those unhappy thoughts when a seeker slammed his fist into a wall near Jazz's face.

"Scared yet, Autoscum?"

"Shaking in my shackles." Jazz replied without thinking. "Go swallow a bug, Skywarp!"

"You're no fun." The drunken seeker complained. "Maybe I should do something about your attitude?"

Suddenly, some guy from the crowd decided to take another shot at Jazz, just as Skywarp raised his hand for a blow.

"Look out!" Jazz tried to warn the seeker, but it was too late.

A smoking hole opened in the Decepticon's back, and his optics widened in terror and pain before he slid to the floor, offlined.

"Oh, slag. Somebody get Starscream, it's his wingmate!" A voice came from the crowd.

"Frag Starscream, unchain me and help me get him to Ratchet!"

"Ratchet… Medic!"

----------------------------------scene cut-----------------------------scene cut----------------------------

"…help him!" A voice shook Ratchet back into reality, a familiar voice making a familiar request.

"Huh?" He turned his head towards the bars.

"Help him, beloved." Jazz asked. "He took a shot meant for me."

Medical training kicked in, fueled by insane relief at the sight of Jazz alive. Ratchet eyed the patient, only to discover a nasty plasma burn taking several systems and tearing fuel lines.

"Get me some tools, and a cube of high grade."

As Ratchet's hands begun the familiar dance of life, he turned his head to talk to Jazz, who knelt by his side to assist in repairs.

"How are you?" He whispered.

"Alive, but I need to see a medic about my visor. It's a bit off."

"Well, I'll see what we can do about it. Some couple we are, huh?"

"A honey ten-orn at Decepticon brig. Just the thing I've never wanted."

Ratchet smiled and adjusted his pose slightly, so that his knee now touched Jazz's. It was as close to an embrace as he could offer.

"You're good with repairs. Ever considered becoming a medic yourself?"

----------------------------------scene cut-----------------------------scene cut----------------------------

The next orns melded into a routine. Pain, repairs, pain. And yet, even Megatron noticed that Ratchet showed signs of recovery from the rape, smiling and bickering with his captors. But every time Jazz was dragged away to be beaten, every time Ratchet's own Energon was tampered with something that made him sick but didn't kill him, a single touch, accidental and fleeting was all it took to get the Autobot prisoners into good spirits.

Megatron asked Jazz once, what was it that made him going. Why bother with living when all it brought was pain?

To his surprise, Jazz leaned forward and kissed the larger Mech. The stunned expression on Megatron's face was priceless.

"This is why I bother." Jazz explained. "And I'll bet anything that Ratchet will tell you the same thing."

And even as the next punch landed on his stomach, the Autobot kept smiling. It was worth it. Because Jazz loved his Medic, and once Megatron tires, Jazz will be back in their cell, in Ratchet's arms. And Ratchet will keep him alive.


End file.
